Fragments
by setphaserstosass
Summary: The lovely Jack/ Ianto scene from the episode fragments. Inside you will find: a Pterodactyl with a love of dark chocolate, angst, and sexual tension. Jack/Ianto, Jack/Lisa.


**A/N: The lovely Ianto/Jack flashback scene from the episode Fragments, with my take on it. Torchwood owns it, not me.**

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><p>Fragments<p>

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><p>Jack rolls them over just in time; the pterodactyl crashes next to them, landing where they had been only moments before.<p>

Their hands are on each other's backs, Ianto is on top of him, it is ridiculous, this is ridiculous. They have just narrowly missed being crushed. Ianto wonders what the morgue workers would have decided to list as their cause of death; Jack thinks, briefly, that if he'd like to prevent his next (1,986th) death from being the one in which he gets flattened by a prehistoric dinosaur, he obviously needs to stock up on chocolate. Dark chocolate, and lots of it.

Their fear gone, their thoughts dazed, they laugh like children. Like the best of friends, with an ease and abandon that lifts the weight off Ianto's chest. He laughs like he can't remember doing in months. And then, suddenly, the humor is gone, vanished in much the same manner as has the space between them. And they have laughed like friends, but now their faces are too close and Ianto is conscious, dimly, of some great danger, but he cannot think anymore.

Their noses brush, their foreheads touch; they breath in each other's air, taking into their lungs the heady, gasping tang of adrenaline. And all at once, Ianto is aware, with disconnected clarity, that there are few places where their bodies do not touch, that where they do touch feels charged and warm, too warm, like an electric cable connected to a power source too powerful for it to channel without setting itself aflame. Jack breaths out again and the air touches Ianto's mouth. Goosebumps rise on his arms. Jack's eyes are darkened by Ianto's own shadow- and darkened by certainty. He looks up at Ianto with surprise and not-surprise, like he is not certain how they got here, but that now he is, he realizes it was inevitable.

Jack looks at him like he is inevitable. Like he is meant to be here, right now, in this place in this time. And there is something tangible in the distance between their mouths; the first lazy, bright-burning spark of a wildfire that neither will be able to contain. Ianto thinks that if the wind catches it, if Jack so much as touches him, it will spread until he dies from the heat of it all. _And if not, he will die regardless, from starvation of kindness; from the void that is only satisfied by a compassionate human touch. It has been so long he has almost forgot what it was to be comforted. In the darkest of his hours, when his death sounded like the greatest mercy of all, he has looked at her sleeping face and put the gun away. He has lived only so that Lisa may._

If Jack touches him, his loneliness, his longing, his agony will spread until he is lost to it. And he wants to let it. He wants the match struck; he wants the dark profiles of their faces to meet, to become one shadow.

Another shadow on his soul. And he is stupid, so stupid, and heartsick, and Jack looks at him like he wasn't expecting this but _here you are. _Jack looks at him with heat in his eyes and with a dare in the curve of his lips and Ianto wants their mouths to meet and he _wantstobesick. _

_The nausea hits him like a blow. He sees her face in his mind. _

_He thinks he will die from the heat of it all-_

"I should go," he mumbles into the precious few inches of space between them, and pushes himself up quickly, the chill of the concrete welcome on his palms. He's on his feet and walking before he can even process the change. He wants no more of this- he can take no more of this. Lisa waits for him, and he needs this job, he needs this job more than anything, because if he cannot have it she cannot recover. She can still recognize him. He wonders how long that will last. Before her mind isn't hers anymore.

Before she- what makes Lisa, Lisa- is gone.

He does not think life is worth living without her. Even now, he is not quite sure life is worth living. Every day seems intent on breaking his heart into smaller peices, until he feels he will burn to ash if he does not scream. And his heart seems to do so now, but this time with self abasement. Jack- it is unthinkable- he does not think it-

His shame, his despair at himself, is incalculable.

Ianto knew, once, where he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be waking up next to her in the morning. He was supposed to be holding a slim brown hand and listening to her rich laugh, the one that bubbled fresh and deep and sounds sweeter than anything he's ever heard.

But that past- that future-_it must be my future, it has to be, she is _everything_-_

There is no hope.

_No. You will get her back. You must get her back._

_But you need Torchwood._

_With Torchwood, you can save her._

There are footsteps behind him, but they stay where they are. He will not turn, lest Jack should see his face and not his mask. It was too close, it is too much- he has to leave. He has to walk away, before his legs give out, before the howl in his lungs can escape. But if he leaves, Lisa will never live. Not truly.

"Hey!" Jack shouts. Ianto stops. There is a pause, in which Ianto swallows, once, and understands that the next few words will determine everything.

"Report for work first thing tomorrow." Jack shouts. With no trepidation, as though he hires Welsh stalkers from Torchwood One as butlers every day of the week. As if he'd always known he was going to say those words, but had only just realized it. But there is something in that voice that Ianto fails to hear through the cloud surrounding him.

_I can fix her, _he thinks. He does not hear the compassion in that voice. He does not turn to see that Jack's eyes are filled with a strange understanding. He does not know that Jack's lightness is all for him, the flippancy of the job offer meant as mercy, mercy for how badly Ianto needs it. (Not pity, never pity; Jack has had lifetimes enough of that and will give none of it to anyone else. But he has seen something in the Welshman's eyes that he himself sees in his own. Jack waits for the Doctor. And this man waits for something else, something just as foolish and desperate and improbable and dear to his heart.)

Ianto thinks only: _I can fix her. _

Jack has always had a remarkable sense of mechanics. Especially when it comes to people. And right now the feeling that thrums in his head looks at Ianto Jones and whispers

_somethingsbroken._

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><p>The release of his desparation weakens Ianto's knees. It's too much, he has to leave before he loses control- he has lost much of it already. The knowledge of what he has almost done chokes his throat, and it's all for her, everything is, he has nearly betrayed her in the worst possible of ways, all for weakness-<p>

"Like the suit, by the way." Jack says quietly, to Ianto's hunched shoulders. It is the last blow; he fights down his own shame, the self-hatred, pressing his lips together to stay silent- and the spark is lit (_though he does not know yet, will not know for many months)._ Ianto swallows the hysteria rising in his throat, tears blinding him, and walks away, because it's too much like Lisa, with Jack- that easy comraderie, that laughing moment gone quiet, and just like that, life reminds him again, overwhelming him with the one thought that destroys him still each time it crashes over him: What if he can't fix her? What if he never can? What if Lisa's almost gone?

He can imagine only emptiness. Black space. (If her mind leaves her body, he is certain his heart will leave his.)

Ianto walks away, his steps harsh and loud, echoing on the concrete floor.

The water in his eyes overflows as he blinks, against his consent. He bites his lip; the tears trace hot down his face.

He does not look back.

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><p><strong>AN: Please do not favoritealert this story without reviewing. If you enjoyed this story, let me know- you can do so in no better way than to leave me a few comments on what you thought. I appreciate constructive criticism. Also, every time you leave a review, you have the option to check the boxes at the bottom to favorite/alert/whatever anyway. It might be quicker that way...Is this shameless review hunting? Quite possibly. Nevertheless...go on. Hit that little button. That's its purpose in life, after all.**


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